Power He Knows Not
by PA-MeatShield
Summary: Post OoTP, rating for mild language. May go up later. The battle at the Ministry left him drained, both physically and emotionally. On top of Voldemort's attacks, the Ministry's meddling, and Dumbledore's secrets Harry must learn how, and who, to trust.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to him, except the events of this story. _

**Harry Potter and the Power He Knows Not**

It had been weeks since the events of the Ministry and, it all honesty, Harry was beginning to crack. Despite his training and experience, as well as his knowledge of his enemy's preferred tactics, he'd gone in underestimating their abilities. When convicted murderers and terrorists start using lethal force against you, he'd later realized it would be wise to return the favor.

Instead, he and the others had been using stunners. Dodge a bullet; throw a pillow for all the effect their attacks had on the Death Eaters. Adding the near fatal injury Hermione sustained, on top of the others' injuries and the death of Sirius, the closest thing he had to a family and a father, and it left him to cope with the fact he was probably going to have to kill some people. At the very least he'd have to do serious injury, and in such a way that they hesitated to fight. Not a lovely prospect.

Further musings were halted when his uncle began banging on the door.

"Potter! You've been moping about for too long, it's time you did something useful for a change!" It was the same voice Vernon usually used when yelling at Harry, but something about it set the young man off.

"Useful? USEFUL?! You listen here, fatty, I've had a bad enough time these last few years at school to be dealing with your inability to do some simple yard or house work! As such, I'll thank you to sod off and leave me alone!" Anger poured off of him, a sure sign something magical had the chance of happening soon.

The silence on the outside lasted only a few moments before the door slammed open and Vernon stepped in, eyes flashing and face near purple with fury. His mouth worked for a moment, as if trying to say something but finding no voice to do so, before he just growled and lunged at Harry, expecting to give him a good thrashing. What he did not expect, however, was to see the boy duck before ramming his shoulder up into his gut. Vernon's momentum being stopped so suddenly had him dropped to his knees before he doubled over and fell onto his side. The taste of copper soon filled his mouth.

"Vernon." The way he hissed as he spat out his uncle's name made the man look up, eyes fearful yet curious at the same time. He continued, tone calmer but much colder. "Things are going on right now, very dangerous things, in that 'freak' world you hate so much. I am at the center of those things, and if I don't find a way to win things will get a whole lot worse. You should be happy, those freakish things are kept out of sight for 'muggles' like yourself and that lovely little group of rats you call a family. If I lose, they'll spill over into this world. Most likely you'll all be killed, just because you can't do magic."

Vernon stumbled to his feet, eyeing Harry almost as a worm would eye a hungry bird, before he found his voice. When he did, it came out weak and timid.

"Where did you learn to move like that, boy?"

Outwardly, Harry kept his face straight. Inside, he was shocked at the complete reversal in his uncle's demeanor. He didn't think such a small counterattack would have such an effect on the abusive and bull-headed man. "Necessity, Uncle. I had to learn to fight fast, or die fast. Like I said, there are more dangerous things going around me right now than you'll ever know."

"If that's so, then what the hell are you still doing here?" Vernon seemed a bit more like his old self; at least his voice was no longer shaky or weak. He did, however, seem reluctant to bully Harry again so soon. "Sounds like you're able to protect yourself, so why risk us or anyone around us?"

Harry deflated at this, sinking back onto his bed. "That's the million-pound question, isn't it? Considering the nature and function of some of the protective magic out there, why keep me here? The only reason I can think of would be so they could keep me out of touch and uninformed. It'd be stupid of them to do that, though. If I'm supposed to be so integral to this war, why keep me so secluded and useless?"

He looked up quickly when his uncle began to talk. He'd forgotten the man was there. "Not to say I believe you whole heartedly, boy, but if this unnatural business you're talking about is true, it would be in my best interest to let you prepare. Wouldn't it?" Getting a nod from his surprised nephew, he continued. "Then it'd be best if you prepared. Keep in mind I don't condone any sort of freakish acts, so you'll be getting no help from us on this. All I'm doing is giving you the time to do what you need to. Not a thing more." He tried to act as though he were in control as he exited, but the injured hobble in his step ruined the effect.

Letting out a sigh after the door closed, he continued to ponder his next move. It was readily apparent he would need to learn some non-magical fighting techniques, so he could build himself up and have something to do over the summers if nothing else. But what would he learn? Hand-to-Hand would be a good start, along with small weapons training. Knives would be a good bet, since they were easily concealed.

For hours he stayed like that, sometimes pondering his future, but mostly he just let himself remember. Remember Sirius, knowing he wouldn't want his cub to mourn his death. Didn't ease the pain any, he was sure that nothing but time would do that, so he contented himself to simply allow the man to live on in his memory. He also remembered how easily he was duped by Voldemort's vision, how each of the five that went with him were injured in some way, and how he shared at least part of the blame for that.

He was once again pulled from his musings, this time by the tapping of a beak on his window. Opening it up, a flurry of feathers announced Ron's owl Pigwidgeon entering, then flying a few laps around the room before finally being caught by Harry. Heaving a sigh, he took the letter from the flaky owl and sat him on the edge of the window. He set up a few treats and a drink of water before returning his attention to the letter. He broke the seal and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope everything's going ok at your relatives' house. Things are going alright here, just a bit of a challenge to get some privacy since recent events._

Harry was surprised when the reference to the Ministry incident didn't stir much feeling in him. There was pain over his Godfather's loss, to be sure, but it didn't feel like the soul-rending squeeze he'd imagined. Maybe he just didn't know how to feel that pain? After all, he wasn't used to showing many emotions. His upbringing just didn't nurture those kinds of reactions. With a frown he decided to continue with the letter.

_Before you start thinking what happened was your fault, forget it! We don't blame you, we blame the Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as you should. __Hope to see you before the end of summer._

_Ron & Ginny_

For the first time since he was at school, Harry had a genuine smile on his face. It was nice to have friends who cared. His smile faltered a bit, then disappeared completely, however, when he thought about how much risk they'd put themselves in for his sake. Willing or not, he couldn't allow them to come to harm because he wasn't ready to defend himself or them. Sending Pig back with a quick reply that he was ok and also hoped to meet before the end of summer, he got into bed and turned off the little lamp on his desk. His last conscious thought was a vow. He'd be ready next time, taking the fight to the enemy and not the other way around.

**A/N: Well, it's a start. I'm not sure where I'm ultimately going to take this fic, but then the best stories seem to write themselves in my opinion. Just gotta let this one get started. It's a bit short, but the chapters will get longer as things progress. Hop****e you enjoy it****, so please R&R****, and please keep**** all flames constructive in nature.**** It's the only way us fledgling writers can improve our technique. **


End file.
